A lesson in patience

So I'm a little frustrated these days.

That is, mostly, because my knees have been hurting since I really started running a little over a month ago. On Saturday, while I was on the treadmill (please, we had just gotten a foot of snow the day before and it was pouring rain), I ended up running and feeling a sharp pain in my left kneecap. So I hit the emergency stop (this time on purpose) and stopped. It hurt a lot on Saturday night but that has eased quite a bit. However, walking up and down stairs has been painful since then (to varying degrees), so I was determined to figure it out.

I saw the doctor on Tuesday and long story short, she recommended physical therapy for me. At first, I was all bummed, because isn't PT for people that routinely eat at Denny's for the "Senior Discount" and who watch "Matlock" and "Murder She Wrote" on a regular basis?

Turns out, the answer to that question is: no. It's also for people who get in accidents and can't move properly. Fantastic.

BUT THEN I was told that their primary focus is to help me know what exercises to do (and what ones to avoid) so that I can live my life to the fullest...even including targeting specific muscles so that pressure will be taken off of my joints and patella. My patellas and tendons will have a chance to heal and then I might be able to start running again. I'm clinging to that hope.

So I'm trying to embrace the positive. And even though my first 5K was SUPPOSED to be this weekend, I'm coming to terms with walking it instead of running it. I'm disappointed - mostly because what I *want* my body to do is apparently different than what it is going to be able to do.

But hey, that's life right?

Rhymes with schmooce

Two weeks ago, I went to a popular blogger's (website rhymes with schmooce) book signing here in Denver.

It was so weird.

I'll be honest...I think I might have been worshipping her for a bit too long. First, she is one of the first bloggers I ever read that I did not personally know. Secondly, she is SO very successful. And she and I have similar writing styles (or so I tell myself on the days when I'm funny). She was the first person that when I read her, I thought, "If she can do it, I can do it!"

So I got to our local bookstore and sat down in the middle of about 200 people. I decided to pick up her book off the stack and start reading bits to see if I actually wanted to purchase it and have her sign it.

No matter which page I flipped to, I couldn't find anything that didn't relate to mommies, nipples, boobs, changing diapers, depression, or babies. I then started listening to the conversations around me - which turned out to be ALL about how Heather changed their lives when they had their babies. Her book helped them know that having a baby is not always what it's cracked up to be.

Add to that the sounds of babies gurgling, cooing, screeching, and crying and it occurred to me I was in the wrong place.

Heather came out and although I couldn't see over the sea of heads, she looked cute and glowing - even in her 7th month of pregnancy. And I even got to see her hubby, Jon who is just as adorable in real life...just in case you were wondering.

But then she read from her book. A chapter all about how she and her husband had to wait 7 months for sex after having a baby and about how she had to stretch out parts of her prior to doing so. Here I was among a bunch of women who were laughing at that and all I wanted to do was cross my legs even harder and promise to take a celibacy vow.

And that's when it hit me. Part of the promise and power of BlogHer and women bloggers is that we get to stand up for what we want. We get to write candidly about what we want to - and we get to be honest with ourselves.

So I left.

I left. Not because Heather isn't funny. If you've read her blog, know that she is usually hilarious. I left not because her blog isn't still one of the few that I cannot wait to read. But because that book signing was for the mommies out there. That meeting was to promote her book which was about how much being a mom might suck - at least at first. And that's something I'm not going to be experiencing any time soon. And it's something that I didn't want to listen to.

It was liberating to walk out. I did it in a way that wasn't rude. And it was after I had been sitting there for about 45 minutes after she came out. I waited until the Q&A session when moms were asking about toughening up nipples. But I guess I was so proud that I DIDN'T feel like I had to stay. I didn't feel like I owed her something and I didn't feel bad about standing up for me and my needs. My dog needed to be let out and I was HUNGRY...so hungry that I might've eaten a baby.

Dislcaimer: I'm confident that if I ever actually have a baby, I will want to pick up the book. I am also VERY well aware that Heather has paved the way for all bloggers out there - most especially women. And I would love to see her speak on any topic other than motherhood, just as I would love to see Edward Norton do anything other than kiss another woman.

Stupid magnet

Sometimes, I love going places with my dog. She is HUGE and we get a lot of attention no matter where we go. The thing is, I need to learn when I probably SHOULDN'T take her places. Those times are when I'm cranky.

Her nails are black and because she's a Great Dane, they are really thick (think: talons). That means that they're hard to clip without hitting the quick (which is the inner part of the nail. If you hit that, they bleed all over the place). AND she needed to have her anal glands expressed. That's such a nice way to say that she has butt juice that needs to be squeezed out of her. There are a lot of things that I'll do to save money...but possibly getting sprayed with butt juice is NOT on that list.

So today, even though I knew I was cranky, I didn't have the luxury of not seeing people. Because yesterday was still snowy and icky from our blizzard on Friday, I had to take her to the vet/Petsmart today. I'll leave the specifics out of it, but let's just say that when a dog her size has anal glands that need to be expressed, it's best that you go ahead and take care of it ASAP.

We got out of the car and headed back directly to their vet area. In my experience, the vets know how to cut nails shorter and without hitting the quick than any other groomer I've been to. We're standing there behind two other people/pets that are trying to get checked in... and that's when I remember that my dog? Yeah, she's a stupid person/comment magnet.

Conversation with random lady #1:
Her: Wow. That's like a horse!
Me: Actually, it's more like a dog.
Her: Well, he's huge!
Me: Uh huh. (Inside, I want to YELL that it's a female dog - hence the pink leash and collar...but because I can already tell that she's getting on my nerves, I decided to take the easy way out).
Her: So, where do you keep it?
Me: Keep what?
Her: Your dog...where do you keep it?
Me: In the house.
Her: Oh. What do you feed it?
Me: Food.
Her: Whoa. Can you ride it?
Me: No.
Her: Have you tried?
Me: No. She's a dog.
Her: I bet it'd be fun. So seriously, does she eat like animals?
Me: What?
Her: Like rats and mice?
Me: No - I think you're thinking of snakes.
Her: Ohmigod, she eats snakes??
Me: No. She eats dog food. Like kibble. Just like any other dog.
Her: Oh.
At this point she got the hint and decided to keep shopping for whateverthehell she came there for.
****************************
Conversation with random lady #2:
Her: Wow. That is a huge greyhound!
Me: Umm....
Her: I mean, is it mixed with something?
Me: No - she's a purebred Great Dane
Her: Oh - are you sure? Because she's a grey-ish color and I didn't think they come in that color.
Me: She's actually classified as "blue." This is the official color of blue on Great Danes.
Her: No...I think that she's got to be mixed with something. I mean, look at her back end. It slopes - just like a Greyhound.
Me: No. She's actually got the profile of a dane. She's tall though.
Her: I think that she may have some Greyhound in her. You might want to check.
Me: Yeah, okay then.
****************************************
Conversation with random guy #1 (as we're leaving the store):
Him: WHOA! What *is* that thing?
Me: A dog.
Him: How did it get that big?
Me: Food.

Seriously, I know that it seems like I'm being an ass, but this does not count all of the people that come up and want to see her, pet her, or ask a zillion questions about her. Most of the time, I'm okay with it - I even budget it in my time that I'm planning on being at whatever place I'm going. I get it, she's big. And most of the people that come up to talk are so nice and sweet. I appreciate it when they ask if they can pet her and I'll answer as many questions as they have. But I just wanted to get in and get out of the store today. I didn't want to answer any more questions.

I'm thinking about getting a shirt that just says:
150 pounds
Female
Yes, they come in this color
6 cups a day
In her dog bed...not in my bed
4 years old
No, I don't own a saddle

Because those are the answers to the question I get most often.

Wow. I AM cranky today.

Sorry - happier posts will hopefully resume tomorrow.

In a word, "FA-BOO-LOUS"

I have lost my super cool, lightweight Ray Ban sunglasses.

I'd like to say that I'm freaked out about this, but to be honest, I lose crap ALL THE TIME so I can't really get worked up about this one. Unless I'm driving. And then all bets are off because the bright sunlight hits some spot in my brain (via my eye-hole) that makes me want to kill people.*

Anyway, I typically have a pair of back up sunglasses for such an occasion. I actually got a trendy looking pair, but they have been so bent out of shape that one of the lenses rubs up against one of my eyelashes. The other lens is super low on my eye. So I actually look like a freak because I'm lopsided and irritated that my eyelashes are being pushed into my eye. I don't wear those sunglasses any more.

Because of this, I was forced to break out my back-up- back-up sunglasses. I bought them in Mexico last year in January while vacationing with my family. See, I had forgotten my sunglasses on that trip and walking along the beach front was too much for my eyes. Because they had knock-offs everywhere, I decided to buy some seriously funny sunglasses. After all, they were like $5 and who cares what I look like in Mexico? So since I happened to be wearing black and red that day, I found this pair of Chanel knock-offs that were also red and black. My older sister encouraged me to get them insisting that they were the perfect Mexico accessory. As you can see in the picture below, they clearly complimented my outfit:

Yes - that IS me doing my best Karate Kid impression. Really it was to try to bring my leg up to my face so you could see how perfectly the sunglasses matched. :)

So those are the sunglasses that I wear around town these days. I feel more than a little silly putting them on. I mean, THEY ARE HUGE on my face.

But I also feel a little fabulous. I mean, they're outrageous... but kind of in a cool way.

*When I first typed that word, it totally came out as "pope." I'm not going to lie to you...I'm a little freaked out about writing "kill" and "pope" together.

It's not just about cereal

You know how you have this cool dream and you want to tell people about the dream, but then you remember that most people would rather stab their eyeball with a spork than listen to your dream? It means something to you, but it's hard to explain to everyone else? Yeah. This post is kind of like that.

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself talking to an old high school classmate. While I wouldn't have ever classified him as a "friend" we had joint friends and I'm sure that we all (as a very large group) hung out together a few times.

The conversation was a little different...mostly because we were talking about the challenges of dating people that are recently divorced. We agreed to meet up for a drink the next time he had a layover in Denver. Anyway, I found it an immense blessing. I mean, my home life was a little weird my junior and senior years of high school. So I made the unconscious decision to cope with all that stress by completely avoiding almost everyone from my home town when I moved away to college. It was a slow process, but I found it easier to forget the crap that I didn't want to think about when I wasn't reminded of how shitty life had become. Mature, I know.

The weirdest thing happened after I was off the phone with him. I guess I just realized all that had changed since I had seen him. First of all, I pay my own bills. I have bought almost all of the things I own. I have health care, that I have to pay for. I've kissed men. I've had sex. I've drank alcohol. I now sleep on a queen bed. I go to church, not because my parents make me, but because I crave spirituality and need to be reminded that salvation by grace alone is the greatest gift of all.

And all of the sudden, I realized that it's not just my ability to pick out my own cereal that makes me a grown up.

I just am a grown up.

So last night, after I set my alarm for my very adult job, and climbed into my bed made with sheets that I washed myself, I cuddled up with my pooh bear.

Even grown ups have their vices.

Mixed Emotions

Tonight I've got a super nice lady coming over to my house. She's going to be bringing a huge stack of paperwork - and I'll have to initial or sign EVERY page.

Yes, that's right folks...I'm re-financing my home.

On one hand, I feel like it's a smart thing to do in the short term. My payment will decrease to the tune of my cell phone bill and my cable bill. And that's so very great. It means more money for beer saving up for a unicorn. Alright, I'll really just be paying more on the principle of the loan. See? I AM smart and responsible sometimes. :)

On the other hand, I am a little leery of what that means. After all, I have to be paying on my house for another 30 months before I "make back" what the costs associated with the closing. 30 months. A lot can (hopefully) change in 30 months. I mean, 3 years from now, I'll be knocking on the door of 35. And I'm not even going to get into the health reasons why having a kid before 35 is better for the mom (aka me). So if I want to get a move on (and get my groove on) and hopefully be married/having kids by then, re-financing may not have been the smartest choice. UNLESS I marry a guy who already has a house. Because then we could rent out my super tiny closet-like space quaint row home and then it would be super great investment.

My lack of being able to see into the future has me a little anxious...but I need to remember that things have seemed to work out before - and this decision may be no exception. :)

I think you might be more bummed about this than I am…

Remember that REM song., “The End of The World (And I Feel Fine)”? Don’t worry, this isn’t another story about being felt up at church. It just popped into my head this morning and I had SUCH peace because I knew how much it reminded me of my need to end the dating relationship with G.

Long story short, this is a mutual decision and one that I feel fantastic about.

You know that stupid email that goes around about how there are friends that come into your life for a season, some that come into your life for your lifetime, blah blah blah? Well, I think relationships are like that too…except for without all the glittery animation attachments.

My 2 ½ month long relationship with G has been pretty great. It was nice to be with someone (for a change) who wanted to rip off my clothes and have his way with me, especially as my new, healthier body is emerging. It was nice to be with someone who understood that the little things ARE important. And it was fantastic to be with someone who knew me and challenged me. He challenged me to get over my fear of dating, he made me aware of times when (mostly due to being scared) I push people away, and he helped me realize that my voice IS important. Sure, he didn’t think that I was especially funny (which, quite honestly, was heartbreaking at times) – and we didn’t have many commonalities in tastes of food, music, TV shows, activities, or movies. Because we were supportive of each other’s differences, I tried to tell myself that that stuff doesn’t matter. Only it does. HE LIKES NICKLEBACK FOR GOD’S SAKE!

The biggest challenge is that he’s so enmeshed in his ex’s life, I mean she STILL doesn’t even know that we were dating. They still talk daily and she leans on him for significant support even though they’re divorced. Red flag raised? Why, yes…yes, it was. But without getting into it more than necessary, he has his reasons. To me it seemed like a huge hurdle I couldn’t get over. More importantly, he doesn’t know if he ever wants to get married or have kids again. He wants to adjust to being single, he wants to concentrate on his job and being a great dad. And I so get that. That’s healthy for where he is in his life right now.

But I’m in a different place. I want to be married. I want to have kids. And that’s also healthy for my life right now. I want to move on with my life.

So I am.

“The talk” is happening tonight but we’ve already had a conversation today about how we both know that this is the right thing to do. We are on the exact same page – and that, like the rest of the relationship we’ve shared, feels great.

Yup – it’s the end of the relationship as we know it…and I feel fine.

How I know I'm an adult (a.k.a. less than 10 grams of sugar)

When I was a kid, one of the things I most looked forward to was when my mom would haul us to the commissary. At first, it seemed like this would be a drag...we all (three of us kids) would have to sit in my mom's van for about 45 minutes WITHOUT A DVD PLAYER in order to even GET to the commissary. We'd have to pick one station or tape to play and listen to (the person in the front seat usually got to choose)...and we had to try not to kill our siblings. Come to think of it, this was had to have been far more stressful on my mom. :)

At any rate, once we got to the commissary, we were given stacks of coupons of stuff to shop for - and as we got older, we got to be in control of our very own grocery cart. We could not buy things that we did not have coupons for. NOT ONE THING. Unless you snuck it in the basket without Mom or the sisters seeing. Sure, it was tricky to get it past the ringing up process (or as I liked to think of it "The Conveyor Belt of Freedom") but if you were lucky you could distract Mom while the coveted item was being scanned. Anyway, Mom would separate the coupons into stacks where we 1) each had a stack about the same size as our other two sisters as a way to discourage squabbling, and b) were located in the same general vicinity as the other items in the stack. My mom pre-sorted coupons - she was an organizational super woman! (sigh) Sometimes I forget all the ways she's been my hero over the years.

So as my mom tried to keep tabs on up to four carts and three kids, we shopped for what seemed like a year's supply of food. Even as I think of it now, I can't really understand why getting to pick out NEW items was so exciting. Even if it was a box of Saran Wrap, I would get excited. Perhaps it was the simple thrill of shopping and not worrying about picking up the bill. Maybe it was that each of the items got to be put in the cart with care so that we could maximize the cart space. We always had overflowing carts at the end and I derived some sort of crazy satisfaction if mine was organized well: cold foods together, boxes stacked neatly, and (if I was feeling zany) the UPC codes visible so I could align them on the conveyor belt allowing for the fastest scanning possible. Uh...yeah. I was a dork even then.

But without a doubt, the best part of the trip is when we got to the cereal isle (which seemed like it was 2 miles long and 50 feet high) to pick out the cereal. Mom would have coupons from General Foods or Kellogg's that were like "Buy 467 boxes, get 1 free" and so we each got to pick out a box or two of cereal. Let me say that again: WE GOT TO PICK OUT OUR CEREAL. The only rule was that the cereal had to have less than 10 grams of sugar per serving. Other than that, we could pick ANY box we desired.

I remembered thinking that this was freedom. This was what being an adult must feel like. You get to pick ANY box of cereal you want ALL THE TIME. Adulthood? Yeah, it was likely to be sheer bliss 24/7.

(sigh)

I miss those simple pleasures in life. I miss getting so excited about seeing a puppy - a puppy that likely wanted to play with me if only my parents would just let me go over there and pet it. I miss trips to ShowBiz Pizza because even though the pizza tasted like crap, I got to see that magical purple monster that SANG when he wasn't resting behind a curtain! I miss admiring the "big" kids in their letterman's jackets, thinking that I would be soooo OLD when I was 18.

I miss my innocence.

So for the rest of this week, I'm resolving to look at things through a child's eyes...I'm going to stop and see the glory in the world. I'm going to seek out the simple pleasures and relish them.

And, of course, I'm going to pick out my own cereal.

P.S. I got used to the lower sugar cereals. In fact, my favorites to this day are still Cheerios, Chex, and Crispix. Sure, I went through a phase in college where I think I only ate Fruity Pebbles, but that's like THE LAW when you get to college, so I'm not going to beat myself up about it. And in case you're wondering, I still feel a rush of glee when I walk down the cereal isle. The possibilities still seem endless.

I'm not

So this past weekend I was completely exhausted. I slept almost 36 hours straight and was just fatigued all weekend. Add that to the fact that I’ve lost 9 pounds in 2 weeks and that I’m losing a lot of hair, and you get someone that is a little concerned about her health.

I was even so exhausted yesterday that I called in sick for a half day yesterday morning. I came in at noon and our receptionist said something about me looking well rested. I said, that yes, I was well rested and that I slept a lot over the weekend. She tried to give me many possible reasons why that could be the case…and because she does not have her medical degree, I walked back to my desk.

I had to pass by her desk a few minutes later…and that’s when she said:

Her: So I figured it out. You’re pregnant.
Me: Nope. I’m not.
Her: No, I know. I’m just saying…what if you WERE?
Me: Well, I’m not.
Her: No, I understand that. But what if you WERE?
Me: Um…I’m not.
Other receptionist: She’s just saying that fatigue is a symptom of being pregnant.
Me: Yeah, I get that, but I’m not. And if you guys could just spread that around the office, that’d be great.

And then I got PISSED.

I mean really…I shouldn’t have to go into my menstrual cycle intricacies with them. It was a rude assumption in the first place, but after I said (the first time) that I am not pregnant, shouldn’t I get the benefit of the doubt of KNOWING WHETHER I’M PREGNANT OR NOT?!?!?!?

They heard that I was dating G…but I don’t broadcast my sexual behaviors at work (please, I leave that to my blog) and I really feel like that was pretty darned assumptive on their part.

AND even if I was, what’s the big deal anyway? Did they really think that the two people that I would tell first would be both receptionists? Uh yeah- because we’re SO close!

The substantial weight loss, hair loss, and fatigue could be explained by a lot of things. Thyroid malfunction, brain tumors, or hey…what about STRESS? I mean, I’m refinancing my house (assuming my house appraised for what I think it should have), we’ve had layoffs at work (and I have no clue if I’m next or not), my relationship with G is looking like it will be terminated shortly, our bonuses got cut at work (so money is significantly tighter), and also I STILL can’t find Pete. :)

The good news is that there was significantly less hair in the shower today and I woke up with more energy the past this morning than what I have in about a week. Perhaps this is a passing thing…

I'll name him Pete

Alright people. I need you.

Here's the problem: I'm noticing that there is a lot of orange hair in the shower these days. Like A LOT. An alarming amount.

Because I'm trying to think about things logically, I've come up with three possible reasons this could be happening:
1. I'm going bald either due to stress, alopecia, or another illness.
2. It may not be all that much. I may just notice it more because my hair is getting longer. Also, I know dogs shed in the spring time...does the same thing happen with people? Am I shedding?
3. I have a baby orangutan that also lives in my house and takes a shower when I'm not looking.

To be honest, I think I'd like option #3 the best. Because LOOK HOW CUTE THEY CAN BE:

I'd totally name him Pete.

Anyway, is there something to option #2? Or does everyone lose their hair like this? It doesn't come out in clumps per se as I'm washing my hair, but as I'm running my hands through my hair it'll be like LOTS of strands at once.

How much hair do you lose? Have you ever gone through this before?

If not, what do orangutans eat?

When I was looking for pictures, I came across this little guy:

I was going to use him as the "cute orangutan" picture, but to be honest, he looks a little too freaked out. It could be because he's dressed in clothes or it could be that he's shocked by how much hair he's losing too. Either way, I had to include him in this post.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop...

This morning was the second day that my workplace gathered us together for the reading of a downsizing report.

It's hard not to be concerned.

Yesterday we found out that even hard work doesn't save you in our company - and a national manager that has worked for us for 29 years was one of the people that was let go. To be honest, it doesn't seem like there was a logical reason that he was let go...and that is a little scary.

Today we found that the cuts are hitting closer to home. Positions like mine were cut all over the country today and I can't help but wonder what the heck is happening. My company is cutting positions and they aren't telling us:
- how many positions are being cut
- where the cuts are taking place
- who the cuts are affecting
- what criteria they're using to make the cuts

It's a more than a little frustrating and sad...and unfortunately because we don't have any knowledge, it's breeding anxiousness, fear, and panic. All we know is that we're in a wave of layoffs...and seemingly anyone could be next.

I'm trying not to worry. I'm trying to remember to breathe. And I'm trying to remind myself that I was looking for a job when I found this one.

But in the midst of all of the articles, blogs, and stories of friends that have lost their jobs, it's hard for me to be optimistic right about now.

The economy? It's happening. And not in a good way.

My first run with Nike+

Alright, so normally I would just have posted this on my weight loss/healthier living blog,* but I am so excited about this that I had to post about it here.

Today I bought the Nike+ system and I am THRILLED to have it. The absolute coolest thing about this is that you get to post a little graph afterwards. And it has A CUTE LADY WITH A PONYTAIL. All right, the nikeplus.com website actually has a lot of cool things for runners, but LOOK AT MY CUTE GRAPH! :)



First, before you mock me, please know that a year ago I couldn't have run a mile no matter how long you would've given me. Second, it was snowing today...and although I really wanted to test out my Nike+, I have a slew of other things to do tonight. So even though I've lately been going to the gym and working out for an hour or so, today I knew I had to cut it short. Third, no, I'm not especially proud of my just under 11 minute average. That average includes my walking warm up for and my stupid moment (see below). So it's not fast, but it is a start. And I'm thrilled that I now have a starting point. :)

And WOW I am a dork. Tonight I was determined to run the 2 miles straight so I could post a cute little graph (ahem, did you notice how cute it is??). In order to do so, I had to change my speed to be between 5.7 miles an hour and 5.2 miles per hour. I got to where I wasn't really looking at the controls and felt all cool because I could hit the up and down button for speed without looking.

That is, until I hit the "emergency stop" button on the treadmill instead of the "go one increment slower" button by accident. Uh. So my treadmill came to a screeching stop and I looked around and tried to pretend that I normally stop my workouts after a mile and a half and then re-start. Um...yeah. Of course, I had to act like I meant to do that. Kind of like when you trip over something on the road and your whole body ends up lurching forward...and then in order to save face you have to start skipping...as a way to mask that you totally almost ate it on the pavement. Yeah...it was like that. Only since everyone was listening to their music, I couldn't cover my stupidity up with a "Wow. 1.57 miles. I usually stop there to do a different interval workout, but today, I'm just going to start again!"

I'm just glad that they didn't know that I was listening to Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy" at the time. Because THAT would've been mortifying.

(sigh)

*that blog? Yeah, it's not as funny. Actually, it's usually not funny at all and often delves into my head about eating, Weight Watchers, issues about being fat, issues with eating, issues with body image, and my attempts to get over the issues. Basically, it'll be a never ending blog. If you thought that the sex post was bad and too revealing, you probably shouldn't go there. Heck, that whole blog could be titled TMI. It's like a frickin' girl zone full of FEELINGS and crap that makes most guys eyes roll all the way into the back of their heads. So read if you like... but please, tread lightly. I'm a tad more sensitive over there.

Tastes like burning...*

FYI: Soft Lips lip balm burns on my lips EVERY TIME.

And it's not even like my lips are soft when the burning subsides (some sort of lip balm acid peel?) .

However, it does seem to be a good appetite suppressant...because when your lips feel like they're on fire I don't feel like eating anything.

So there's that.


*"Tastes like burning" is my favorite Ralph quote from The Simpsons. :)

Great start to a Tuesday

This morning I got in my car and decided that rather than talking to people on my way to work, I could really use the time to groove to some tunes.

Setting my iPod to random, here's what came up:
--"Cherish" by Madonna
-- "A Little Respect" by Erasure
--"99 Luftballoons" by that German girl
--"Starry Eyed Surprise" by um...the Diet Coke commerical

Anyway, it was fantastic and was the great start that I needed today.

Songs I'm loving these days?
--"Let Me Go" by Cake
--"Fake it" by Seether
--"Jenny Says" by Cowboy Mouth

I've got a lot on my mind these days...that's when music seems to help the most.

I no longer respect life

In Colorado, you have several license plate choices. You can choose the typical one or you can choose many "specialty" plates. Which include (and I'm not making this up) an Italian American Heritage Plates and "Support the Horse" plates. At this point, I'd like to ask Colorado WTF? It's just bizzarre.

There was even a big expose' on how the "Committed to a Cure" plates (with a pink ribbon for breast cancer) was frustrating people because the extra money for the plates don't go towards any cancer research at all. People felt duped. It's called a "Breast Cancer Awareness" plate and I guess their point is that by you having those plates, you're helping people be more aware that breast cancer exists. And, as a side rant, I think that their frustration is just silly. There was, apparently, never a claim that the money went towards that anyway. Besides, it's not like anyone thinks that getting the ones that say "Bronco Country" are going to donate money to getting us running backs that might actually make it through the whole next season.

Anyway, when I got my own plates in Colorado, I chose to get ones that said "Respect Life" in the middle of the plates. They were pretty, they had Columbine flowers on them, and I was going through a REALLY girly phase at the time. See, I had just gotten out of a job where I was the only female in the whole nation in that job. Getting these plates was a way to give a big (albeit stylishly well manicured) middle finger to all the crappy guys that I worked with and for.

Really, if they would've had ones that had a penis with an arrow through it and played Aretha Franklin's "Respect," I would've picked those instead. But since they didn't have that option, I chose the pretty plates. As for the phrase, well..I was fairly certain that it wasn't some anti-abortion message. But I wasn't sure if I was giving advice to people or proclaiming that I respected life. Hell, it could've been referring to Life cereal or even that cool boardgame...I had no idea.

Someone told me, years later, that they thought that it was about the tragedy that happened when two kids walked into Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado and shot a bunch of teenagers. But then I felt like an ass. Because I bought the stupid plates without knowing what I was supporting. And besides, I didn't live in Colorado at the time of the shooting. I didn't know anyone who got shot and I didn't have to deal with the aftermath of that horrible day in my own community. I felt like a poser...and all of the sudden, I knew what Milli AND Vanilli felt like.

So my plates came up for renewal recently and instead of renewing my "old" plates, I got the normal Colorado ones. My car looks cooler with those ones anyway.

On a side note, I would TOTALLY change these plates in if they had ones with John Denver's face on it. The tagline could be "Bowl Cuts Rule" or "Support a John." You know, something classy.

Ten REALLY good reasons to have babies...

1) They're so cute. I oooh and ahhh over friends babies often. I'm lucky enough to have friends that blog and take pictures of their babies. Because I don't want to show any favorites, just know that you guys make some cute babies. :) I've never seen such long eyelashes or cute facial expressions as I have recently. Your baby is delightful.

2) Most importantly, I'd get to write posts like this. You know, ones where you're kind of making fun of the baby, but the baby won't know. That post is hilarious and I've found myself reading it over and over because I'm laughing so hard. See, I think that people take their babies too seriously sometimes. And posts like this help me know that it's okay to mock people who don't know that you're mocking them. Wait. That can't be right.

3) They smell like...well technically they smell like what society and Proctor & Gamble have told us babies should smell like. But they smell delightful...when clean. Or at least not poopy.

4) There is nothing like the feel of a baby. And before you call CPS, just know that I'm talking about the complete love and trust that they lay on you as they fall asleep. It's absolutely miraculous and easily one of the best feelings ever. A couple of weeks ago, I went to a friend's house and got to hold this baby almost all night long. Through feedings, naps, and general jumping time. The naps though? Those were the best.

5) You get to teach them all sorts of things. Like, my friend Mikey's wife taught his daughter that Daddy's name was "doorknob." And that Halloween is so that the adults can get candy. You may think this is mean, but I think it's HILARIOUS. And harmless....at least for now. :) I mean, if I could get over the fact that Santa doesn't exist, then people can get over that Halloween might actually be so that the kids can eat candy too.

6) You get to pick their names. Unless you're on some sort of messed up reality show. And while I don't agree with naming your kid Sarah McCain Palin against your wife's wishes, it's still your right. Like, I'm trying to convince Lance to name his kid Gertrude Susan. Because Gertie Sue is a FUNNY name. Unless that's your name. In which case, it's so magnificent that I wanted to duplicate it. Lance's last name sort of sounds like Gertie so it's even funnier with his last name. For the record, my children will have the most beautiful names ever: like Unice, Dwightel, or Dieter.

7) You can get out of obligations. Seriously. Someone invites you to a party and you don't want to go? Blame it on the baby. "We would go...but you know...the baby needs his/her tummy time!"

8) You get to re-introduce your favorite books and movies to them and see the wonderment in their eyes. I think that'd be awesome.

9) If you get bored with them, you can drop them off. At least in Nebraska. They have a safe haven law where you can drop off your kids. I'm not sure if it's a "no questions asked" sort of deal or not, but hey - it's an out. Alright, I wouldn't actually drop off my kids - I mean, that's kind of horrible. All I'm saying is that if spanking is frowned upon, I don't think there's anything wrong with telling the kids "Keep this up, and we'll get in the car to Nebraska!" Threatening and frightening kids seem like two tactics that would totally work.

10) You get to realize just how horrible you were. This probably means that you thank your parents for not killing you when you markered all over the walls or tried to trade your baby sister for a jump rope.

I'm just saying...babies are fantastic. Why, I think I'd like to have me one of them someday.

Once you go black...

I am in love!

With blackberries. :)

Seriously. I would eat them in a box, I would eat them with a fox...I would...well...you get the gist.

Today I had them with vanilla yogurt. And all I'm saying is that it was the best thing ever in the whole world of all times. Or at least excellent because it's been months since I've had honeycrisp apples and YEARS since I've had Ted Drewes. :)


Alright, so I know this post is a little light on content. But I figured that you probably needed a post to recover from the sex post from last week. You know, the old addage, no swimming for 30 minutes after a meal and no posting heavy topics right after sex.

Don't read this post if you don't want to know about my sex life

Mom, that means you.*

My sex talk with my mom went like this "When you're an adult and you really, really, really love someone, YOU GET MARRIED. THEN..." And after that came a bunch of medical terminology for various body parts. Combine that with a relatively strict religious upbringing and you get one of the many issues I have.

The first two guys I slept with, we totally lied to everyone about having sex. Because everyone knows that only heathens have sex and it is forbidden by God to have sex before marriage. Also, did you know that it makes Baby Jesus cry? Well, if you weren't so busy having sex, you'd probably have known that by now.

So all I'm saying is that I've had some shame about sex...and my sisters and I have discussed this and it seems like this is not a unique perspective.

I write all this to say that I'm reluctant to write about sexual things on my blog. Because while I hope that you know that I'm kidding about being a raging alcoholic (please, I rarely rage), you might be a reader that feels pressed to tell me about all the things that make premarital sex wrong. And I'm letting you know that I get it. It's a sin. So is having envious thoughts of your neighbors things. So is having hate in your heart for your parents (or even step parents). So is killing people that were deliberately slow in traffic and when you try to pass them, they speed up so you can't pass them, which means that they TOTALLY DESERVED IT.

Having been in relationships where I wasn't getting any, I'm much happier when I am. I feel loved. I feel important. I feel special. I feel beautiful, sexy, and fantastic. And I love giving the same emotions to the person that I'm with.

I've downplayed the whole G thing for various reasons. But since it's kind of time to be true to myself, I can tell you that I have a lot of strong feelings for him. I wrote a little while ago that he gets that it's the little things that matter and he does a ton of little things for me daily. He calls me the endearments that I've "awww'd" over. He texts me throughout the day to let me know that he's thinking of me. He calls me every night to wish me a good night. He likes my dog. He supports me during times when I'm unsure of myself. He builds me up. He is a fantastic father. He's a patient man. He doesn't think I'm needy. He doesn't care that I can be clingy. He lets me pick the music. He pushes me to think of things in a different way. He's a really smart guy that I can have conversations about things on mulitple levels. He pushes back when I'm being stubborn and calls me out on the things that I need to be called out on. And he teases. He teases me about a billion and a half things - and I'm learning not to be so sensitive because I know that behind the teasing is a lot of caring. I care about him quite a bit. Much more than I let on.

And if you think that I'd muck this up just to date a guy that likes to take pictures of his back, you'd be crazy. We haven't dated anyone since we reconnected (because again, we've been friends for years) and haven't wanted to. Neither one of us planned on ever dating each other. But it's happened. And it's great.

So yeah, we're having sex.

And all I can say about that is that it is about frickin' time. Spending the night with someone who has all of the above attributes, well it makes for a lovely time. And waking up next to him?It's even better.

I'm not so over the moon that I don't think that this time could pass. And that what could happen is that we would have many many fights and many many tears and end up hating each other for forever. Yes, that could happen. But for now, I'm not in that phase. I'm enjoying THIS time... for however long it lasts. It's scary, but it's also wonderful...

So by Bible standards, I'm an old maid and a Jezebel. But I'm okay with that. :)



*Who am I kidding? My mom doesn't read this blog. Her computer has issues with going to my site...and really? Who can blame her computer? A lot of people have issues with my site. :)

The better to see you with, my pretty!

My eyes are f*cked up.

LOOOOOONG story short, I was in a bad car accident 5 1/2 years ago and my brain swelled. The swelling of the brain made my vision all funky and even though the swelling has gone down to normal, I have issues with "convergence" of my eyes, issues that mean that I have to wear prisms in my glasses or else I get headaches. To be clear, it's not like when you look at me, I look like Rodney Dangerfield or anything...it's just that my eye muscles have to work really hard to constantly move my eyeballs inward. FRACTIONS inward. Again, I'm not wall eyed. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

Anyway, I've been noticing since Monday night that my vision was all janked up in my left eye and I got kind of freaked out because it seemed like it came on pretty suddenly. So I made an appointment with an opthamologist to check out my peepers. I had never seen the opthamologist before, but apparently Tuesday was the day for any and all old people to come see him. Seriously. It even SMELLED like old people. AND I didn't get offered even one piece of Werther's Original candy. Hmmmph.

So Dr. Roe checked me out and dilated my eyes...only to determine that he had no idea what was causing my soreness, the worse vision, and the burning...all only in my left eye. So he said that I could get a new perscription (with more magnitude for my left eye and more prism for both eyes) or I could just wait and see. He literally said, "Do I think that it's something horrible that you're not really showing signs of yet? Well, possibly. But it's either you being hyper sensitive to the changes (i.e. you just noticed that your eyesight is worse in your left eye), or you have MS, or you have a brain tumor. But you should know something more in a week. Call me if the pain gets worse."

Fabulous.

So, what's an Irish girl to do after that news? Go downtown for St. Pat's and celebrate with friends. :)

The only problem is that apparently my left eye never un-dilated. Here I am with my friend Julie and you can see how big my pupils are...

Only I didn't know that it never went down...until the next morning when I put on my eyeliner. I looked in the mirror and was all "That can't be right." Larry even noticed that my left eye was messed up when I came into work.

The good news is that my pupil has gone down since then.

The bad news is that I still don't know why.

In the meantime, here's another St. Pat's picture - one where I don't look quite so sweaty. :)

The results posting

Know how American Idol has a performance show and then a results show where they shatter someone's dreams and then ask them to sing the exact song that got them kicked off (while they're undoubtedly emotional and likely to butcher the song even more)? Well this post is like that...except that I'm not as drunk as Paula is. It's a results post.

I had a conversation with new guy last night (please, let's just call him G). We talked about the online dating thing and the whole staying active on match.com thing. By the time we had the conversation, I had worked myself up into a frazzled worry.

So I started off the conversation with a lot of disclaimers ("I didn't know we would start dating when I signed up for match.com," etc.) ...and then I explained the match.com guarantee with so much detail that I was boring myself. I explained about how I knew neither one of us could say with certainty that we would be dating in 5 months...and that I wasn't pushing him to make a commitment or anything...but that I wanted to keep my options open. Not for now, but for later. And then I re-explained the match.com guarantee thing. Then I told him my plan of only emailing five people per month to decline people's intentions (winks or emails). And then I apologized for being selfish because I didn't want to waste the idea of six months. I went ahead and explained the details of the match.com guarantee thing again for good measure.

He waited until I had run out of steam (I really can talk quickly when I'm worried or fired up about something) and asked, "Are you done?"

When I said yes, he said "I think that the plan that you have is absolutely fine."

So I exhaled the air that I had apparently been holding and felt good.

There's only one other person that I'd even remotely consider dating right now, other than G. And that's the guy that has been in my head and heart for a long time. G knows about him and, for now, is patient with my quest to get over him. Besides, he has some feelings that he's still trying to work through with his ex...which makes us being friends first absolutely fantastic. Some days are better than others...but I'm actively trying. And I guess I feel like that's at least a good start.

Back that thang up...

I know, you thought that I was done with the posts about online dating sites, right?

WRONG.

See, the new guy and I are having a great time...but I also know that he is not ready to make any sort of promises to me that this will be a relationship for the next year. Since he's relatively recently divorced, I think it would be particularly hard for him to make that promise. And the deal with my match.com subscription is that if I stay "active" for six months and don't find anyone, then I can get six months free. So if I don't remain active, I lose the possibility of six months of free dating. He and I will have a discussion about this tonight, but I'm fairly certain that we will come to a solution that allows me to be active while still maintaining ours. Now, before you think that I'm a complete freak, just know that to remain active, all I have to do are these three things:
1) have a profile picture
2) keep my profile visible
3) email five unique users once a month

Honestly, my plan is this...I don't really FEEL like dating. So I figure that I'll just write back anyone who winks or emails me.

Like, I got an email from a guy who thought that this picture was a great one to portray what he's really about:
Um...yeah.

I don't even know what to say about that one...unless he's just trying to show potential dates that he does not have a horrible back hair issue.

So, a simple email from me saying something like "Thanks for your email, but unfortunately, I'm not interested. I just started dating someone and would like to see where it goes" constitutes as an email to a unique user. And boy is he unique. :)

Before this posts scares anyone off, just know that he is definitely the exception to the rule. Most of the guys on match seem like pretty decent people.

At least from what I can tell from their backs.

The difference between cookies and people

Today we were getting ready to wrap up a meeting and one of my co-workers asked if we were done.

Then, very politely, she was told that "Cookies are done. People are finished."

Alright, so it was a little condescending, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking of that little saying. I love grammar rules - mostly because I don't know many of them. For instance, I can never remember if it's whomever or whoever (although Denver Kelly once tried to set me straight on that one). I can never remember if it's "Rachel and me" or "Me and Rachel" or "Rachel and I." The book, "Marley and Me" has helped slightly with that...but I swear that sometimes it's correct to say I, right?

Anyway, I usually don't say that I'm "done" with something, but this little saying will probably help me remember to be more on my toes.

What are your grammatical pet peeves? What about any cute sayings that will help us keep things straight?

Wonderful Weekend

My good friend Jon came to visit me this weekend. We had a great time...doing...well...nothing really.

We did go to Ted's for some great bison burgers...
Besides Jon having great taste in friends, he is hilarious.

We spent much of the weekend lounging in fun pants, talking, laughing, and drinking beer.

It was a wonderful weekend.
In my defense, the picture from the link was taken in September of 2007...and I'm going to say that it was just a bad angle and not that I was ever that big...

Happy Friday! :)

Today I opted to take a personal vacation day...stuff at work has been piling up in (at times) the most unbearable way. So I opted to try to take care of myself and take a day to get the crap done that needed to get done.

I decided that I would treat myself to a Chick-Fil-A biscuit sandwich this morning. It's safe to say that that is possibly my favorite food when done right. The chicken is all crispy, and the biscuit is all biscuit-y. It's a delightful combination that makes me feel that all is right with the world. *

Anyway, I drove up to the drive-thru with my hair in a sloppy ponytail, a shirt that says "Redheads do it better"**, and my fun pants.***

Only to find out the best thing ever....

THIS MORNING THEY WERE GIVING AWAY FREE CHICK-FIL-A BISCUITS.

(sigh)

I love today.

*I know...I'm working on trying not to equate food with peaceful/comforting feelings...but I can't help it with the Chick-Fil-A chicken biscuits.
**My mom HATES it when I wear this shirt. It's a 3X and on me as big as a nightshirt so I wear it to bed...and I think that brings up a delightful picture for her. :)
***Yes - they are real things. Today's pair is solid green with "Kiss Me I'm Irish" across the butt. CLASSY.

Honestly, it's because I'm neurotic

So, my blogging friend, Patty, gave me this award that is apparently called "The Honest Scrap" Award. Apparently you're supposed to write 10 honest and slightly random things about yourself and then tag other people to encourage them to do the same.

Here goes:

1. I love the IDEA of this award, but the name is silly. Honest Scrap? I think it should be called the "Honest Crap Award" or maybe even "The reason you're going to look at me funny the next time you see me Award" mainly because it's supposed to have random crap about you - apparently brutally honest things. And I have this weird desire to shock you somehow. Wow. I just wasted #1. Sorry, Patty.

2. I am not really a redhead. People, I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you...but I just couldn't figure out the right way. I am naturally a blonde. Sometimes it turns a reddish/golden blonde in the summertime, but basically I'm a blonde. I feel so guilty when someone compliments my hair because I totally want to scream out that it's not real...as if I shouldn't be taking credit for something that is fake. I'm getting better at not belting that out to complete strangers, but I feel uncomfortable with people complimenting it. And OH MY GOSH I get asked if it's natural several times a month. It's probably the question that I get most often...well, other than "No seriously...WHAT is wrong with you?" For the record, I don't know a redhead that DOESN'T get asked that question and I'm just shocked. I mean, if you want to ask, just assume that it is fake. That goes for anything: boobs, noses, hair, babies, limbs, whatever. If you're in doubt, it's probably not authentic.

3. I owe Jennifer a post about purses. And um...here is a picture of my current purse. I love it. It's purple (which I typically don't like) and is made of crinkle leather...but doesn't it totally look like the hips of a pair of low-slung bell bottoms? Yeah, I thought so too. I bought it at Wilson's Leather as they were going out of business. I love it because it's not black or tan...and that means that I don't have to change it to match anything. I love lazy. Also, it goes remarkably well with my MINI. Yeah, baby, yeah! I know, this probably shouldn't count as an honest thing from me...other than I HONESTLY feel horrible when someone tags me and I don't do it. Because I'm neurotic.

4. I decided on Saturday at my appointment with my hairdresser that I needed to have more pronounced bangs. And I hate them. So I'm currently trying to sweep them to the side so it doesn't look quite so bad. I tried to take a picture, but my hair looked SO stupid in all of them except for this one which is, somehow, fitting.It looks SUPER stupid and I guess I feel like I look like a kindergartner. The good news is that they will grow out...but I feel oh, so stupid. Kind of like those people that shave their dogs or cats in the summer, but leave them with leg hair so that it looks like they're wearing leg warmers. You KNOW that they're walking around feeling all stupid like. And because I clearly didn't say it enough in this paragraph: STUPID.

5. Poodles kind of creep me out. And I get that mixing them with other dogs makes their owners less likely to break out in hives, allergies, or even acne but I'm SO tired of hearing about the -oodle ending to any given name. Labradoodle, Goldendoodle, Googledoodle. I don't like it. First, they sound like cookies. Who wants to pet a cookie? Unless that's code for something, you can count me out. Second, it's like Brangelina or Bennifer. DUDE. No one does that anymore. So stop doing it to dogs. Also, those dogs totally look like muppets. No really. LOOK AT THEM. Closely. They're all shaggy and have deep black eyes that make you want to hug them. They're cute...but it's almost like seeing Kermit in real life. You think that you'd like it, but when it comes down to it, it'll creep you out.

6. I have not bought a box of Girl Scout Cookies this year. This is a big accomplishment. "Bob" even posted a GS cookie sign up sheet for his niece...who is like 4 and is quite possibly the cutest little Asian girl I've ever seen. He typed up a little note saying that this was her first year in Brownies and that she really wanted to get a patch. He attached a picture of her in her Brownie uniform and then he made her sign the note with "Lily." Which makes sense that that is her name because it is so freakin' adorable. And her writing of her name was all innocent and childlike and I just wanted to buy all of the boxes of cookies. But I didn't. Because buying the cookies would mean that I would eat them. ALL OF THEM. So I didn't buy them. Actually, I think THAT should be an award that people could post on their blogs. Something like "I Survived Girl Scout Cookie Season And Didn't Gain 25 Pounds." Catchy.

7. I am currently dating someone on a regular basis. So I didn't know how to tell you guys and it's not a big deal...really. But he's a pretty nice guy who makes time for me and treats me better than a lot of other guys that I have dated in he past. He gets that it's the little things that mean a ton to me. He and I have known each other for years. I don't know where it's going or even if I really want it to go anywhere. Here's what I do know: it's not exclusive but neither am I really looking to date anyone else, he's not dating anyone else and in no way indicates a desire to do so, he gets more about me than some other people I've been with, I'm having a great time, and he seems to have a knack for frustrating me faster than others I've been with. So I might kill him or I might keep him. It's SO not a big deal. I'm not in love...just "in like" for now. But it's nice to be involved with someone and know that I can blog openly about it if I want to. Okay. I guess it's a big enough deal because I'm writing about it.

8. I hate the feeling of cotton. Not like cotton shirts (because it usually has some sort of additive that makes it not feel icky)...but those super soft, plush, and fuzzy blankets? I can hardly touch them without getting the eebie jeebies. And don't even get me started on the sound that cotton makes while pulling it apart. That's the sound that I imagine is in Paris Hilton's head ALL DAY LONG. Noise that hurts my earholes and makes me want to comment about how "hot" things are.

9. I don't like yellow gold. At all. Ever.

10. Last year, there was a mouse in my place. To be honest, there were three. And after seeing them, I didn't sleep very well for a week - I slept with the lights on and walked everywhere stomping loudly hoping that my stomping would some how frighten them in the way that the giant from "Jack and the Beanstalk" frightened Jack. I felt incredibly silly... aware that I was acting like the step-mom from "The Parent Trap" when she cracks sticks together to scare away any potential mountain lions. I also put down about 20 traps. In a 750 square foot townhome. I'm not even kidding...there was one trap every 3 feet or so. Oh, and I bought those electrical things that you plug into your outlets to keep the bugs and mice away. I totally spent over $100 on traps and electrical transmitters. BECAUSE I'M NEUROTIC. One day the mice were gone and I haven't seen them since. But I still have those frequency transmitters in almost every socket because I'm afraid to take them out for fear that the mice will come back. And seriously it sounds like I'm living right underneath many power lines...constant buzzing. And I'm so not kidding. It's probably giving me some form of ear cancer, but I DON'T CARE.

Since rules are rules and you're supposed to tag someone, I officially tag: YOU. :) Seroiusly, other than Jennifer, I don't know who would do this. If you want to write about this kind of stuff, I promise, I'm interested and I'll read it. I just don't want anyone else to feel like they HAVE to do it because I tagged them. BECAUSE I'M NEUROTIC.

Cleaning house...

Yesterday something fantastic happened. I finally got rid of my extra mattress and boxspring... ones that had been cluttering my dining area for almost 5 months.

I know, you're thinking 5 MONTHS TO GET RID OF A QUEEN SET??? First, I wasn't sure that the new bed would work out...and I wanted to wait until after my 60 day trial period was done. Then Christmas happened...and then I really wanted to get a lot more for it than what apparently used beds have a market value for. I finally succumbed to the reality that things I've slept on are not worth much. Sadly, I probably didn't need Craigslist to tell me that. Anyway a nice couple came by to pick up the bed and now I am slightly less in debt.

It's amazing how much better my place looks! :) I've said it before, but my place is about 750 square feet...and moving FROM a place that was 1511 has taken a lot of getting used to. I'm still trying to figure out where I should put stuff and what I should get rid of. And yes, it has been over a year since I moved in.

The removal spurned my cleaning and re-organizing of several things in my place...stuff that I've been meaning to go through for the past year. I moved around furniture, made spaces more efficient, and went through my pantry so that I'd throw out all the crap that has either expired or I know that I won't eat.

The result? My place looks better than it has before. Which I'd like to report actually says something...but it looked so bad before that that statement just means "it looks less like the cluttered closet it is."

The last bit of cleaning that I did was a difficult choice. I un-friended my ex on Facebook. See...HE added me. And I've always been that person that hates for someone to be angry or frustrated with them so I accepted his virtual friendship and went on my merry way. Until he posted a status update that was funny. I commented on it and his current girlfriend JUMPED on that comment and couldn't really let it go. And I was all "Dude. I don't get paid enough for this." So I sent him a message asking how he wanted me to handle it...and didn't get a response. I'd like to say that that is not like him...but the reality is, it is so very like him.

I realized how unhealthy it is to want to be friends with ex-boyfriends. I'm friends with one, Rex (aka the guy who now probably wishes we weren't friends because I made a funny about Jesus). He had cancer when I was dating him...and I think that the stuff that we went through together sort of bonded us. The difference is that Rex ALSO treats me in a friendly way. We touch base every couple of months and I would definitely say that our relationship is like how we were when we dated - mutual and two-sided. Versus mine with Jon, where it was so very one sided.

I realized that I'm ready to let go of the ex. The reality is, he treated me badly even before he cheated. The reality is that he's not even a good friend. The reality is that his issues overwhelm many people around him - and that's an undertow that I've grown weary of struggling with. The reality is that when I clicked the button to remove him, I knew it was the right choice. I knew it was the healthy choice.

And just like with the removal of my mattress set, I'm a little surprised at how good cleaning house can feel.

Skiing pics

Just to prove that I did, in fact, go skiing this past weekend, I thought I'd post some pictures.

This is me on the lift:


And this is a picture of Kelly and I on the lift:

See??

Proof that I was there. :)

Alright, there is actually one picture where you can tell it was me on the lift - but I look like Jabba the Hut Skier and it may be one of the most unflattering pictures ever.

Here's me outside of the place where we ate lunch. My hair looks special...I know. But it helps keep it out of my face-hole while skiing. Also, the day before when I had it in braids down the side of my head, it looked even more stupid. Trust me, this was an improvement.

This post is so overdue, even I'M ashamed :)

I can't believe that I have let this much time pass without telling you about the COOLEST thing I received in the mail a little over a week ago.

I got a valentine. IN THE MAIL!

How fun is that?

The best part is that it was from my friend Kristi and I was touched at how thoughtful it was of her to have sent it to me.

She rocks.

And I suck. See, I decided that I am no good at remembering people's birthdays well enough to post about them each year. So I stopped. Only Kristi's birthday is in December...so she got screwed. I mean, I remembered her birthday and sent her a message via FB or MySpace (you know, something REALLY touching), but I didn't write about her on my blog.

Let me just say that Kristi was one of my very favorite residents that lived on a floor that I was the RA of. She was the most polite resident ever and I could never go near her room without hearing fits of giggles. She and her roommate, Sara (and usually two girls across the hall), were always having fun. Except when we had fire alarms that were pulled in the middle of the night. FOR SEVEN WEEKS IN A ROW. That sucked.

But Kristi? She was great. And now that we're older, I'm getting to know Kristi better...and I love the woman that she's become. She is a fantastic, smart, beautiful person who I'm so lucky to have gotten to know! :)

Thank goodness for HULU

So I called DirecTV on Saturday morning and explained what had happened and what I tried to do to fix it. And they were all "Yup. Sounds broken."

So they swore that they'd have the new HD DVR to me on Monday. When I came back from skiing last night, I rushed to my door like the Christmas that I was 5 and I asked Santa for a pony. And was equally as disappointed with what was waiting for me (i.e. my neighbor standing on his lawn in a robe). And oh, how I wish I was kidding about that.

So I'm hoping that it'll be here tonight. But like Great White sings, I'm "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" ...uh...baby.

I was actually pleasantly surprised with my patience on the phone with them...and now that I know that HULU exists, I am okay with catching up on the last three episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Heroes sometime this week. I'm even trying to be okay about re-setting up my prioritizer.

Things I'll miss:

• Justin Timberlake's SNL episodes. Because "Bring it on down to Omletteville!!!!" is the funniest thing EVER.
• Rob and Big's episode where they dressed up like two ladies on a cereal box.
• Eddie Izzard's "Dressed to Kill"

I just really want it to be here tonight, because I am ADDICTED to "The Biggest Loser." Yes, I know it's reality TV and I should be ashamed for watching it. But it IS motivating...and sometimes even eye-opening as to why I might be reluctant to shed my excess weight.

Look, at least I'm no longer watching "Survivor." (sigh) I'm a work in progress.

You've got to be freakin' kidding me...

First, I just want to say that I tried Fiber One Bars in the flavor of chocolate mocha. It tastes like coffee flavored ass. Maybe the ass of the coffee bean? I don't know. What I do know is that they should rename it as "coffee in the shape of bars with the texture of oats -- now with 800% more fiber!"

So I hardly ever do this, but I decided to call and complain...because I do like their other flavors. Typically when you complain at the number on the box, they give you coupons. And I'm all about free things these days. Anyway, I'm giving the lady my information ... she asks for my name and I said, "It's Anne - A-N-N-E" and then we went on to my last name which is "Not Kennedy." When she read me back my information RIGHT after I gave it to her she was all "Okay. So your name is Annie" and then just spelled my last name. And since she was nice, I just agreed. Only, I pronounced my name. It's Anne. Pronounced the same as "Ann" but NOT "Annie." OMFG I wish that didn't annoy me so much.

Secondly, my best friend is coming in town this weekend. Her flight gets in in about an hour and a half and I thought a nice touch to her coming to see my place was for it to not smell like dog badly. So I decided to vacuum up all the dog hair I could see. I do this twice a week and am amazed that my dog has any hair left on her body. Seriously, when I empty my vacuum bag, I'd swear a Sasquatch has been in my house. But alas, I digress.

So I just got done vacuuming and then my power goes out. It goes out even though I'm done vacuuming. Why? I don't know.

So I walk outside to flip the breaker. I walk back inside and see that my TV is on (it was when the breaker tripped). Only it has this on it:

Only at that time, it was only 1% complete. It's been an hour and a half.

My hope is that when I get back from picking up Peoria Kelly that it will miraculously be working. It was just over a year ago that I had to replace my TV...and I'm just not up for dealing with TV/DVR related issues again.

P.S. Since I took that picture, it is now up to 67%. I'm trying to contain my excitement.

Just so you know, it was consensual...

Alright, yes.

That is a picture of a guy in a box.

What can I say? It was a slow day.

*for those that noticed my title of this post before I changed, it, I'm not a COMPLETE idiot. Or at least, that's what I'm claiming.

525,600 minutes

Last week, was a very important anniversary of sorts. Well, maybe not "very important" but something blog-worthy. :) See, a week ago today it had been year since I started blogging openly on Blogger. You might notice posts that went back before then - but that's because I stole them from my myspace blog (which I found out keeps only the 4 most recent posts).

I had used it before then to keep my thoughts - an online diary of sorts that was available to no one other than me. But it became evident that I had much crap to share with everyone. Some funny, but mostly just pathetic. :)

In the past year, I went from 1 view per day to over 40. I know...it's small potatoes compared to you guys, but that's some serious growth in one year! I started to think of other ways to measure the progress of my blog. And that's when it hit me.

This weekend, I was listening to Rent's "Seasons of Love"...and realized that that would be a cool way to benchmark my blog-iversary. I've been through some changes this past year. I fell in love, I decided to get healthier, I mourned the loss of something that I know will never be, and I've started to realize that I might be enough...I started to love ME. I've realized that this past year COULD be measured in love - and much of it given from you.

If you're not gagging on the syrup-like sweetness so far, let me just be clear. You have supported me in times when I felt so very unworthy of your support. You have cheered my successes and laughed with me in my complete failures. You ROCK.

And since it's my blog, I've decided to share my 10 favorite posts in no particular order. No really, there is no reasoning behind this list...and I'm trying to decide if it is worth putting it in some kind of order or if I should just take a pill to stop my eye from twitching.

Steadfast
Just Like Lance...only not
At least my hair looks cute
Why you should join Facebook and why my friends want to de-friend me
Many the Miles
Shiny Happy People (Holding Hands)
Letting It Be
You're what?
Why I peed my pants on the way to work today...
Today's Chemistry Picture

The gays come up with all the good stuff

I was checking through my Reader and noticed the title of an article on 5280.com. It's titled "Mass Make-Out Session Planned for Tomorrow at CU." How could I not click?

I love the gays. You guys have all the best ideas. And I'm not just talking about Beyonce's dance moves or the BeDazzler.

In case you haven't clicked, what's essentially going on is that a bunch of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender students are going to be "challenging" societal norms by making out like "crazy" for two minutes at 11:53 a.m. with whomever they want. Then, apparently, just as quickly as it started, they will go back to their lives.

But really, doesn't that sound like something some frat guy came up with? I mean, can't you see some guy who looks like Seth Rogan with a beer bong and pizza stained shirt getting up on a table at a party and announcing that for the next two minutes you NEED to kiss whoever is next to you? Sure, he'd belch afterwards, but I can totally picture it.

My only beef (haha) with it is this sentence: "The kissers will be joined by their straight allies."

(sigh)

I can't even get action on Friday the 13th at an organized kissing rally. New low? Yeah, it's right about now.

Smart enough

I just got an email from one of our outside sales reps.

He was sending the email to one of our factories that, admittedly, sucks. The gal he sent the message to is new in her position and he decided to give her some background on the order. He opted to copy the person who previously held the position (Amy).

And then he wrote this:
"I have copied Amy, not because she is very smart, but she did handle the earlier returns I am referencing."

Um...ow.

Now, Amy isn't particularly smart...but she is MEAN and she holds a grudge longer than anyone I know. So she's smart ENOUGH to figure out how to make his life a living hell.

Guys People can be so clueless sometimes.

Coolest. Name. Ever.

Today we got a fax from this guy:

I'm sure someone knows if it's illegal that I'm posting this guy's name and signature or not. But for now, I don't care.

I picture him looking like this:

In case you can't tell, he's getting ready to ask me to pet his monkey.

Common Courtesy

A guy in our office is engaged. He's a really nice guy, but like most engineers isn't quite aware of social situations.

Friday he comes up to me...

Him: Hey Anne. I checked with Larry and he said it was okay.
Anne: What was okay?
Him: Well, Larry said that it was okay that I borrow the extra chair in your cube for this weekend.
Anne: Oh. Yeah - if it's okay with Larry I guess it's okay with me. (Larry is our operations manager - so all our stuff in the office is his responsibility).
Him: I'm having an engagement party.
Anne: Um...okay...
Him: So I just figured that it was common courtesy to let you know that I'd be taking your chair. (he names three names) are bringing their chairs to the party, so I only needed a few more.
Anne: Wait. You're saying that it's common courtesy to let me know you're going to be borrowing my chair for a party that other people in the office will be attending but that I'm not invited to?
Him: Yes. Exactly.
Anne: I do not think those words mean what you think they mean.

Annnnnndddd....SCENE.

I'm not even kidding...that is almost word for word how the scene went down.

Makin' music...out of nothin' at all

My friend, Rex, used to say that he would always put on an Air Supply album if he invited a girl over and wanted to get lucky. And by "lucky" I think he meant holding her hand or perhaps comparing how far they'd travel to see Christopher Cross in concert.

Anyway, last night I made a great mix of some of my favorite mellow artists from Van Morrison to Marc Broussard. I'd call it my make-out mix, but let's be honest, I'm not exactly doing a lot of that these days. This mix has a subtly sexy vibe that goes just as well with a glass of wine and a bubble bath as it would entertaining someone in my place.

Listening to it at work (as I am today) seems somehow slightly (and delightfully) naughty...like wearing sexy underwear under jeans and a t-shirt.

It's decadent...and just the kind of spoiling I needed today.

Loss of a part of me

One year ago today I lost an aspect of me. I no longer was something I always swore I'd be.

I can't go back - even if I wanted to.

And apparently, I'm still dealing with it.

Tonight I'm mad about choices that I've made and about choices others have made.

I'm mad that it's still affecting me and that I'm still waiting.

A year ago today I became a fool...and I guess it's easy to say that I haven't stopped.

Rave or relaxation? You decide.

"Bob" received a gift at Christmas time. The gift was a water fountain thing...you know, like for relaxation/meditation purposes. Personally, I can't imagine having something running water at my desk all day - mostly because running water makes me want to pee...and they frown on peeing at your desk at my work.

Anyway, the water fountain (is that what it's called?) broke. And it started making a lot of grinding noises, which apparently are not relaxing. So "Bob" went out and bought a new one. It looks like this:
In case you can't tell, that's an orb of power on top of the three tiered water fountain thingie. It's got fluorescent lights that pour out of the rotating orb - giving it an almost rave-like feel. I don't know if it came with a hit of acid or not, but it seems like having that next to my desk would make me want to only listen to Erasure. Which, I have to admit, I want to do pretty much all the time anyway.

Seriously...if you listen closely, you can hear "It's Raining Men." I'm just saying.

So in order to take a picture of the machine, I had to tell "Bob" that I wanted to have my own relaxation picture in my cube. And since "Bob" is so helpful, s/he was all "You should take a picture of Martin's rock garden too!" So I had to.

So here is Martin's rock garden:And now my deception is complete.

I'll never cheer for the Steelers again...or maybe I just hate February

I went over to Matt and Kelly's house to watch part of the game. I ate my weight in the most delicious "pigs in a blankets" ever. Seriously. She might have injected crack into the weenies. All I know is that they were the best thing...ever.

Anyway, I opted to meet my friend Greg for a beer after the game. When we were leaving the restaurant and as we were approaching my car, I noticed piles of puke next to my passenger door. I was bummed...but that was only until I noticed that my window on my car was smashed. Then I was just sad. :(

Now, MINIs have a HUGE side windows. My passenger window was shattered - with glass pieces all over my car. It was then that I realized that I had done something I usually never do...which was leaving my iPod in the car. So I opened the door (which sent the rest of the glass that had been upright falling into my car) to see if it was still there...and I could see in plain view that it was. My radio was there. My glove box was untampered with. But the blanket and Whole Foods reuseable bags that I had folded in the front seat had been decidedly relocated to my driver's side seat.

I have a couple of theories:
1) A drunk person fell into the window and then needed a bag to keep throwing up in. He took one and then shoved the rest into the driver's side.
2) A really bad burglar decided to steal the iPod but then got distracted and opted to move stuff anyway.
3) A drunk person fell into the car and then to make it look like it was a robbery, moved the stuff.
4) The drummer from the date a couple of weeks ago really did just want to know what sitting in the passenger side of the car felt like.
5) Kurt Warner was so pissed at losing the game that he decided to smash a window in Denver.
6) Cheering for the Pittsburgh Steelers is bad luck.
7) The month of February is cursed. Why, in a few short days it will have been a year since my rear window EXPLODED while driving on my way to the airport.
8) Two words: Keyser Soze*

Do you have any theories?

*I just told Larry this theory. And was all "Who?" And seriously, if you don't know who I'm talking about, do yourself a favor and rent (and watch) "The Usual Suspects" RIGHT NOW.

Better than the Superbowl Halftime Show

I love this video.

It was the free video of the week last week on iTunes...and I love how it's made. The song is pretty groovy too.